3 days

Its been a few days of Uppers, Downers and all arounders to be honest.

Saturday dawned cold and bright and found Trotter and Fing visiting a poorly Shane in Hospital. They sat on his bed and made him laugh, they pushed him around in a wheelchair but were forced to stop for fear it might induce vomiting. They then sat and watched the South Park firework display and 'ooohhhhhh'd' and 'aaahhhhhh'd' in all the appropriate places. They popped into the pub on the way home and ended up going clubbing at Cloud 9 before returning home and collapsing exhausted.

On Sunday Martha noticed one of the goldfish swimming upside down in the pond and decided that he must immediately be removed and placed in a bright orange bucket on the draining board. With Stuarts help she dismantled a pump and placed it in the bucket, which kind of created a Jacuzzi effect and left the poor fish hurtling around the bucket like he was caught in some hideous 100 miles an hour whirlpool. I managed to persuade Martha that this may be a little strong, so she switched it off and went and got Asia. Asia, it transpires, is the local authority on goldfish and came bearing swim bladder medicine, a smaller pump, and portents of doom. We would, she advised, best not get our hopes up, dashed some medicine in the bucket and left us all feeling rather pessimistic as we stared at the goldfish, upside down and still revolving in his bucket.

Later that night an assortment of youths landed on the estate from an alternate, hoody, reality and let fireworks off just outside Varne's. Martha went out full of concern for Hercules, but the Youths told her to Fuck off, then lit some squibs in open defiance. The fireworks were not well received by Lulu or Tutz. Tutz spent the entire evening in the airing cupboard while Lulu tried to drown out the fireworks by barking as loudly as she could.

Monday found the goldfish the right way up but with nose pressed against the pump like an oxygen junkie. We borrowed a tank from Authority Asia, and popped him in there instead, where he took to sucking pebbles and sudden bursts of speed.

Much later Fing and I went to bed where we started to watch Braveheart. I had forgotten Fings aversion to the Scottish, and so was a little surprised when he got off his pillow and went for a sleep in the airing cupboard. Sometime later there was a rattling from downstairs. Fing, bored of the airing cupboard, had gone downstairs, opened the cupboard and deliberately tipped the dog Iams all over the floor. Not content with this he also opened all the other cupboard doors to see if there was any more mischief to be had, none found he came back upstairs and stared at me with a steely glare until I was forced to switch off Mel Gibheart and lay down and give him a cuddle.

Today it is Tuesday and I don't know what the pets are up too. I would imagine that most of the cats are asleep, Trotter will be sat at the bottom off the stairs waiting for Martha to come home and Lulu will be watching a crap film on channel 5, or looking for new cake recipe's or some such jazz.